Correction
by bellaknoti
Summary: When Elissa makes categorically disparaging and disdainful remarks about males in general, Zevran takes it upon himself to teach her that not all men are created equal.


"Tsh. Forget it, Zevran. I know what men are like, and I'm not interested," Elissa asserts, her lip curling. "It's disgusting." She throws another stick into the fire, then drops heavily onto the log next to it. He continues to pace, across from her, watching the darkness and listening to the sounds of the sleeping camp around them.

He arches an eyebrow. "Oh? In what way?"

She shudders. "All the grunting and the sweating and the..." She gestures vaguely in the direction of his breeches, and he laughs.

"I see. So, your experience, then, it is only with men who are _brutish_." He crouches down next to the fire and warms his hands.

"_A_ man," she corrects. She sniffs, looking away haughtily. "I'm not a whore."

"Oho, a low blow, is it?" He stands, stretching, and regards her with hooded eyes. "If you've only had one experience, how do you know that it is the rule, and not the exception?"

She folds her arms across her chest, refusing to be baited. "Men are men," she says, shrugging. "You've all got the same parts."

He laughs again and walks around the fire to sit next to her. "Ahh, so you say. Let me put it to you this way: wine comes in bottles, yes?" He leans in a little closer, and she watches him, wary. He lowers his voice. "If your first taste was vinegar, would you then expect _every_ bottle to be so sour?" He lowers it even further, leaning in a little closer as she begins to take his meaning. "Would you then reject _every bottle_, even though the contents could be sweet and heady as a summer mead?" he purrs.

"W- what?" Her eyes widen, and she leans back a little, not sure what to do with herself now that he's gotten so close.

He looks at her, their faces now merely inches apart. "I'm saying, my dear Warden, that you haven't given the notion the respect it is due." He reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, the motion naturally turning into his fingertips whispering along her jawline. "Whoever that man was, he was a stupid brute, and you could do much," he moves a little closer, "much," his breath washes across her lips. His mouth brushes against hers as he says, "better." Then he kisses her heatedly, and she squeaks, her eyes flying wide.

She is immediately amazed at how good it feels, how something so simple could send a thrill like that all the way down to her toes, and she raises her hands, tentatively, one to his shoulder, the other to the side of his face. He is soft, thorough, his lips teasing against hers and his tongue darting out to taste her, to coax her into opening her mouth for him. He licks at her mouth until she opens to him, until he can get his tongue wrapped around hers, and she shivers, a little whimper escaping her as she gives in to him. Dairren was not like this; he was all mashed lips and wet slobber, his tongue an invading force. Zev is like a beckoning finger, a lure, a tease, a promise; his tongue strokes the side of hers just like his fingers down the side of her face, and she shivers again.

She loses a breath, leaning into him, feeling a sudden rush of desire that wrests a gasp from her. She jumps back, breaking the kiss, startled. He lets her go reluctantly, slowly pulling back, only a little, from her, and looks at her with his amber eyes drowning deep. He laughs under his breath at the expression on her face, and she colours. "You see, my _sweet_ Warden? You may as well be a virgin; this man of yours, whoever he was, was an amateur."

He leans in, to kiss her again, and her breath catches. He pauses, just a breath from her lips, and withdraws again, a knowing smirk on his face. "Watch is over," he murmurs, a mischievous twinkle to his eye. She blushes up to the roots of her hair, and he saunters off to wake up Alistair.

.:o:.:o:.:o:.:o:.:o:.

Zevran innocently sits watch with her for the next two nights, making banal conversation, acting casual, like nothing ever happened, and watching her fidget nervously, casting furtive glances full of heat in his direction. He pretends not to notice, but he is careful to do things like stretch in front of her, or sit in such a way as to make his breeches go very tight around his thigh. He taunts her relentlessly, all the while acting casual enough that she does not know what he does is entirely on purpose.

On the third night, she is staring at him wantonly, her lips parted and her knees together. Tch, such an innocent. She really is trying very hard to make conversation about their intended path, but her eyes keep straying, and he sees the way she presses her thighs together whenever her gaze wanders across his hips.

He sits next to her, and she crosses her legs, one thigh over the other, and fortunately for him, it is toward him. All that expanse of inner thigh is available, just aching for him to run his fingers up it. She is so wet, he can already smell her arousal, and this is a very, very sexy thing. She licks her lips as he nonchalantly adjusts the wrappings on the hilt of one of his daggers. "Zev," she says, hesitantly, and he looks up at her, arching an eyebrow. She licks her lips again.

"_S__ì_?" he prompts, amused, when she doesn't say anything, at first. "You have a question, perhaps?"

"I..." She clears her throat, trying to get control of herself. Obviously assuming she has him fooled, she straightens up and tries to regard him seriously. "A couple of nights ago..." Oh, this ought to be interesting. He sheaths his dagger and turns to look at her, fully. The weight of his gaze seems to disarm her completely, and she falls silent, stunned. He smirks.

"Yes?"

"Well... I... 'Amateur', you said."

"Ah, this former man of yours, yes? He must have been." He leans forward. "You wish, perhaps, to revisit the topic?"

"I... Yes?"

He smiles, slowly. "I see. And... What is it you would wish to discuss?"

"Well... H- How do you know?"

"Hmm... I thought we had already gone over this, _cara_. Perhaps you did not mean to ask me 'how', but 'what', hm?" There, that little intake of breath; he has her now. He smiles. "Let us... retire. Watch is fairly over; we can wake Morrigan now, and you can tell me exactly what it is that happened to you before." He looks her up and down, taking in her nervousness. "Why don't you wait for me in my tent," he suggests, and she nods, a little too quickly. He suppresses the urge to laugh. She hurries, and he watches her bottom bounce as she crawls in, covering his smile with his hand. He ambles over to Morrigan's hut and wakes her, then strolls back to his own tent.

Elissa is sitting nervously on his bedroll, her knees pulled up. He sits next to her and pulls off his boots, then looks at her. "So, tell me about this boy. What did he do first?"

"H- He kissed me."

"Hmm... like this?" He kisses her again, careful as he was the first time, and she opens to him like a blossoming flower. The lesson of the preceding kiss did not go to waste; he smiles at how breathless she is as he pulls away. "What next, _cara_?"

"My shirt," she whispers.

"So soon? Tch. That is the first place he went wrong."

"W-" she begins, but he doesn't give her the opportunity to ask so many questions. He kisses her again, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulls her into his lap. She gasps, breaking away, but he doesn't let her get very far. He plunges his hand into her hair, holding her in place, and traps her mouth again. She forgets to be nervous and puts her arms around his shoulders, falling into him. He runs his hands down her back and she arches against him, so sweetly. He pulls her legs around his waist, his hands travelling down her thighs, and she whimpers for him.

She gasps again when he easily slides his hands up under her shirt, splaying his fingers across her waist; he can feel all the small hairs on her skin stand to attention, and he smiles. He kisses her throat, while her head is tipped back, pulling her closer as his hands continue up her back. He can see her nipples stand to attention through the thin linen of her shirt as she shivers. He bends his head, letting his hot breath wash across her breast a moment before he pinches one of those little buttons between his lips, and she jumps, trying to stifle a cry by clapping a hand over her mouth.

He chuckles under his breath. He pulls his hands around her ribs and under her breasts to cup them, his thumbs circling the tightly puckering flesh around her nipples, and she forgets to be quiet, letting a low little whimper escape. Her thighs flex around his waist; her shirt, riding up, leaves her stomach bare to press against his, and he feels the heat of her. He kisses her again, running his hands down the front of her shirt, the buttons giving way easily for him, even from the inside. Once he's got it apart, he has access to a lot more skin, and pulls her closer still. She whimpers with disappointment when his hands leave her breasts, but practically purrs with pleasure as he replaces that loss with his lips and tongue.

At last, he divests her of the shirt, running his hands down her arms with a feather-light touch that has her hair standing on end again. "Your shirt, _dolcezza_," he murmurs. He flings it aside carelessly, kissing her collar bone, and up the side of her neck. Her head tilts to the side, and she hums as he nears her ear. "What next?"

She has to try, three times, before she can form coherent words, but finally, she says, "On my back." This, at least, is the proper timing, and so he turns with her and lays her down on his blanket. She is immediately tugging at his tunic, and he lets her pull it off over his head with a soft laugh. He lowers his skin to hers, giving her some of his heat, and she arches against him, her breasts brushing against his bare chest. He strokes his hands down her sides again as he recaptures her mouth. She writhes wantonly, her hips swaying upward against his, and he smiles against her mouth.

"M- my breeches," she says, before he even asks, her breath coming in quick little gasps. Her eyes have darkened with desire, and he brushes his fingertips down the side of her face, tracing her cheekbone and the line of her jaw.

"So eager," he whispers, pulling back. She looks startled, and a little embarrassed, and he smiles. "No, _cara_, be proud; it is a beautiful thing," he murmurs, his fingers deftly unlacing her. She raises her hips as he smooths his hands down around her waist and into the back of them, cupping her firm bottom in his palms. Her eyes go half-lidded as he strokes along that tender skin, and her lips part, before he's even gotten his hands down the backs of her thighs. He pulls them off of her, smalls along with them, running his hands all the way up to her ankles before tossing them to the side. He looks down at her, and she bites her lip, her knees suddenly closed. He strokes the backs of her thighs soothingly. "What happened next?" he asks, though he's pretty sure he already knows the answer.

"I lost my virginity," she whispers, then bites her lip.

His eyebrows furrow, and he shakes his head. "Tch, that is a terrible injustice," he assures her, not surprised in the least. "And, tell me, did he manage to bring you to your pleasure?" She looks confused, and he shakes his head again, sadly. "He did not. You would not be unsure. It is no wonder you were left feeling cheated." Her thighs are slowly parting as he distracts her with conversation and the relatively innocent way he is petting her skin. As his fingers near the tops of her thighs again, he curls them around, instead, and lets them drag across the hot line of her sex. She gasps, her knees falling open at once, and he suppresses a smile.

She trembles, and he starts her out easy, kissing her knee, but he makes his way down the inside of her thigh, his hand shadowing his mouth down her other leg, and she gasps a moment before he thrusts his tongue between her folds. She arches immediately, crying out, and he grabs her hips so she doesn't escape by accident. She bucks and thrashes like a wild thing, and he lets her wriggling do most of the work for him, until she finally settles down into a rhythm, giving him something to work with.

He lets go of her hips, now that she is no longer in danger of writhing her way out of his tent, and smooths them over the quivering planes of her stomach, upward to her breasts again, circling them but never actually touching the aching tips that she tries so desperately to get into his hands. She moans, low and guttural, the swing of her hips beginning to develop a hitch, and he feels her pulse against his tongue as she lets slip another moan. He slows her down, dropping lower to thrust his tongue within her, and finds, to his surprise, that her maidenhead is left fairly intact. It is not often that Zevran is surprised during sex, and so he explores this revelation carefully, as she begins to mewl like a kitten.

It is when he runs his tongue very carefully around the edges that he discovers what must have happened. The man was not equal to the task, and left her partially intact; just one side has been folded in, not even torn, but a little stretched. She is still nearly as pure as she was before her little misadventure. He feels sad for her, that her first experience was so pitiful. The man must not have been any bigger than Zev's own thumb. He sighs, pulling back, as he feels her beginning to hover on the edge, and she collapses to the mat, shivering and heaving. "Mmh, don't stop, oh, Maker, don't stop," she whispers desperately, and he laughs under his breath, slithering out of his breeches.

"Oh, do not worry, my Warden," he murmurs, stretching out above her and pressing himself into the join of her thigh and hip. She gasps, her eyes widening in shock, and he grins. "Yes, now you see," he purrs. "I regret to inform you that this former man of yours did not actually manage to break your maidenhead, and so it is left to me. You find yourself in the curious position of having to lose your virginity for a second time." Before she can become frightened by the notion, he leans down and kisses her neck. As her eyes flutter closed again, and she turns her head, he slides himself along her cleft, letting her feel the length of him, and she moans brokenly.

He pulls back just as slowly, her hips rocking against him as her little whimpers wordlessly beg. He lets himself fall downward to press against that barrier, and her hips rise. He smiles and presses forward, nuzzling at her neck. He clamps his mouth down over the sensitive flesh on her neck, just under her ear, just as she gives way, and she gasps, the pain balanced by the pleasure. He pauses, letting her adjust for a moment, then slowly continues, inexorable as the tide. She begins to moan, rather loudly, so he claps a hand over her mouth, knowing she will be embarrassed later if he does not offer her this courtesy.

She is already spasming around him, shuddering and sobbing, before he is even half-buried, and he hisses between his teeth as that already tight sheath throbs heavily. She is wrecked and shaking by the time his hips kiss hers, and he pauses there, shivering a little, himself. He pulls his hand away from her mouth and waits for her to look at him. Finally, her eyes blink open as she returns to herself, and her head turns. "Now," he says, his voice low and deep. "Take it back." 

She blinks. "W- What?"

"'All the grunting, and the sweating, and the...'" he quotes her. Coming to the part where she gestured to his breeches, he rocks his hips against her. Her eyes flutter, and he leans down so he is nose-to-nose with her when she opens them again. They fly wide with surprise, and he slides within her again. "_This_," he says, pressing to her tightly. She whimpers and licks her lips. "Disgusting, you said," he whispers, and rolls his hips, tearing another moan from her. He leans down and kisses the side of her neck, the corner of her jaw. "Grunting and sweating, you said," he murmurs, as he moves within her again. She cries out, her hips rising, and he grins. "Not interested, you said." He sucks gently at her earlobe, pressing forward once more, before he stills, leaving her breathless and shuddering. "Take it back," he whispers in her ear.

"Mh! I-" she gasps. "Y-yes, I d- do, I do, oh... I take it back, I take it back," she whispers desperately. "Don't stop," she begs.

He chuckles. "Oh, _cara_, do not worry; I have no intention of that."

When she begins to chant his name, he does not cover her mouth, not until the last moment, when she seems like she might be likely to scream, when his own stomach muscles are shaking with the effort of trying to hold himself back until he brings her over again. He kisses her then, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth, just as he is below, and swallows her cry as he finally allows himself release, as well, both of them falling over that edge together.

A shudder runs through him as he looks down at her; she lays beneath him, boneless, helpless, eyes closed and lips parted, swollen and crushed from that last, nearly violent kiss. "Zev..." she whispers, struggling to maintain consciousness, and he shifts his balance to brush the hair from the side of her face.

"Elissa?" he murmurs, a lazy smirk curving his lips.

She smiles brilliantly, drunkenly, and caresses the side of his face. "I'm sorry... I had no idea."

"Yes, I know that." He kisses her again, before rolling to the side and gathering her into his arms. "That is why I forgive you. And now, we sleep. You can tell me how marvellous I am tomorrow night, after the long days' march you have ahead of you."

"Mmmm... what?" she murmurs sleepily.

He laughs. "Good night, Elissa."


End file.
